My grandma was strong through my grandfather's death. And maybe, maybe it was because she had fallen out of love with him (if she ever was in love with him). Maybe it was because his death had been slow coming and she was the one who took care of him, month after month, in their house. Took care of him as he was reduced to diapers and then reduced to morphine and then reduced to.... nothing.

We knew it would happen.

And then she had Dewey. And she got to do things she couldn't do for years. She got to go out and be active. She went on vacations and had a man who could go out to eat with her multiple times a week. And maybe, I don't know, maybe that gave her some life.

Then the cancer came, quickly, and took him, quickly.

And now he's gone. And I'm scared to death that she's going, too. It's... I dunno... I'm scared.

I'm selfish, I guess, because I don't want to lose her. There are so many things to talk to her about.

Kelly and I are going to start going to visit her at least once a week, and I'm hoping I can get my mom and my dad to go with me.